


If I Could See Me Now

by andiebeaword



Series: Spencer Reid Teen+ One Shots [13]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Brain Injury, Brief Mention of JEID, Dilaudid, F/M, Fluff, Hallucinations, Mentions of Prison, Mentions of drugs, Minor Case of Amnesia, Normal Criminal Minds Angst, Spencer's in a Coma, Trauma, hospital stay, mentions of maeve, mentions of needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28542648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andiebeaword/pseuds/andiebeaword
Summary: Spencer has just fallen in his apartment. Suddenly, he's back at the BAU like a normal day when he sees .... Morgan and Elle, and even Gideon? What the fuck is happening to me? He, then, see his younger self. Something in him decides to try and right every wrong that has led him here.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Series: Spencer Reid Teen+ One Shots [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115525
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	If I Could See Me Now

**Author's Note:**

> To the anon who sent this in to me, bless you. I don't know if this is quite what you had in mind, but I am super proud of my Coma Dream fic, and, at first, I wanted this to be a prequel of sorts, but then; I'm like No. I now wanted to write a fic where ..... spoiler alert: SPENCER REID DOES NOT GET HURT AT ALL. Like, aside from normal, everyday stuff. Also, this is kinda very OOC from the show. Thank you to definitelynotkatesblog for the title!

\-------♥-------- 

"Lynch is still alive..." 

That's the last thing I remembered saying before ... was I falling? Did I fall? 

I'm now in the elevator, watching the doors open to the same sixth floor it always stops at to drop me off for another day of work. Fifteen years I've done the same routine. I always seem to find myself dressed in work slacks, mismatched shoes, dress shoes or converse, with a button-down shirt and tie with a cardigan or sweater vest over it. Today was no different. 

I found my desk in seconds, moving to set my satchel down in the same spot I've done for ... fifteen years. Fifteen long years. That's when I hear a voice I hadn't heard inside these walls in almost four years. 

"Well, you know, you better thank your man upstairs for making it the whole team, otherwise you'd know they'd find a reason to bring us back up in here." Morgan? 

"Why? They got other teams." ...Elle? Now there was a voice I hadn't heard on well over a decade. Was I getting a headache? I began massaging my temple just above my right eyebrow, wondering if I truly was hallucinating this entire thing. That's it. I'm actually sound asleep in the comfort of my own bed; this is just, what, a dream? A nightmare, maybe? 

"Okay, you can go on believing that if you want to," Morgan chimed back to Elle. Shit. I remembered this day. Sure enough, I froze. There I was, at 23 years old, walking past Morgan and Elle, paying only half-attention to their conversation. "...but I am not answering my cell phone." I barely heard Elle's soft 'okay,' when I moved to follow my younger self back over to .... my desk. "Ah, there he is! Pretty. Boy." That nickname. I couldn't help the smile that crept over my face, as well as the one I clocked on my younger selves' face, too. I guess some things never do change. "Last chance, I can get my man to swing you a hotel room for practically nothing. Even you might get a little loving out there."

"Thanks anyway," We both said at the same time. I chuckled a little at the odd interaction. Morgan was always trying to subtly help me 'up my game.' I could've cared less back then. Now, that same man has a wife and beautiful boy who is one of my favorite godsons. I swallowed a lump in my throat I swore wasn't there a second ago. 

What have I been doing? Normally, I never minded being single, being jokingly teased for being the 'baby of the BAU,' for my team tip-toeing around the thought that I could still be a virgin ... the list went on. "C'mon, Reid, live a little, huh?" I shook my head, slightly, wondering if they could hear me..I took a moment to watch myself. I was so incredibly focused on doing my job to the best of my ability that I never felt like I could be bothered to even think about having a social life, let alone a romantic one. 

"I have to go---going home." I watched him walk past his friends/co-workers, keeping that same satchel--the one I, too, had left at my--our desk. "Have a good one, guys." I heard some more conversing between those two behind me, but I needed to catch up to myself. I wanted to suddenly spill every shitting thing that has ever happened to me from the me I'm trying to catch to the me who's doing the running. 

"Hey, Reid! Hold the door!" I hear Gideon call out. I watch as he holds the door as I slip past Gideon. Now, all three of us are in the elevator. "So, um, going to see family?" I scoffed a little at his comment. Gideon was probably one of the most family-centric people I've ever met, but the man had a funny way of showing it. I suppose, I grew up to be the same way. 

"Ye-yeah, something like that." Truth is, that weekend, I was going to spend it with my mom, but, instead, I opted to stay home, curled up on my couch, reading old classics I've read probably over a thousand times each by now. "Well, uh, have a good weekend, Gideon." 

"You too, kid." 

I followed myself all the way to the Metro stop, sitting next to him, still wondering if he could hear or see me. I debated nudging his shoulder, spitting out a fact I believe only the two of us, well, me would know. It wasn't until we were both now inside our apartment, and I watched myself make the same old nuked bowl of Spaghettios, sitting on the couch, working on one of many crossword searches I used to keep on the end table. I cleared my throat, trying to get even just one word out into the empty void that was my lonely apartment, besides my fish, Burt. 

"He--hello? Can you hear me?" I watched my younger self pause, almost dropping his bowl onto the floor in front of the couch. 

"Who's there? I--I'm a federal agent.. I'm reaching for my badge right now." I chuckled loudly, not being able to keep the bursting laughter bottled inside. I watched him slowly turn around, strangely abandoning his decision to show his credentials. "Wha--? You--you look like ..." 

"You?" I remained standing in my own living room, leaving myself to slowly sink back into the couch, though his body is now turned around to face me. "I know, it's uhh, it's alot to take in." 

"Am I hallucinating?" I laughed more. 

"If anyone here's hallucinating, I'm pretty sure it's me." I moved to touch my countertop, surprised I was corporeal here. The weight of the past fifteen years don't seem to exist here. For that, I was eternally grateful. 

"So, what, you're like--supposed to be my guardian angel, or something.? 

"We don't believe in that." Now, it seemed it was his turn to chuckle. 

"I know, scientifically, that's true, but, lately, I've just felt ..." Both of us lingered our eyes over to the coffee table where an envelope and letter were out --- half-written to our mother. 

I remembered that moment. It was one of several where I doubted my 'genius' capabilities, especially when it came to being an agent with the FBI. It was also one of many moments where I would mentally kick myself for not visiting her more, telling myself that this job would take away my ability to do so, where in reality, I just couldn't find it in me most days to face her. Back then, it still haunted me, the face she threw my way when I had her committed in the first place. Like I took something away from her that she was never going to get back, and she will forever blame me for it. 

Some days now, I still feel that way. Knowing Mom would survive and still be with me, all those years later, gave me a strange sense of comfort I didn't know I needed. "Ahem, is there something wrong...?" my younger self asked, and before I could even attempt to explain, the words we were both afraid of spilled from his mouth. "No, please tell me we--I--you didn't have a psychotic break!" 

"No! No," I further explained, trying to determine how to ensure that he understood. "I'm fine, we're fine, look, you're going to be fine," I stammered. 

"That's a lot of 'fines' I'm hearing." I sighed, running a free hand over my hair and face. "Guess life in the FBI for us turned out similar to what I imagined." The sad truth was, my life for the past fifteen years ended up being far worse than 23 year old me ever even thought to imagine. 

And that's when it hit me. 

I have the power to change all that. Screw the butterfly effect. If I'm going to wake up back to the hellish life I left, I damn sure am not leaving here until I at least try to help create a better life for 37 year old me to go back to. I made myself a large cup of coffee, knowing this was going to take me quite a while to explain. 

"Alright, Spencer.. I'm going to need you to simply sit and listen." He slumped back into the couch once again, but this time with eager ears. My heart cracked a little at what I was about to share with .. myself. I needed to keep reminding myself this was going to worth it. I took another sip of my coffee and began to explain what the next fifteen of his life .... my life ... will have done to him. 

"In roughly two years, you'll find yourself on a case in Atlanta, Georgia. A millionaire couple were slaughtered. You and J.J. are sent to go check out a house, where a guy, um, Tobias Hankel, lives. Um, he's the one you deciphered was the person who called 911." I watched his eyes mull over the information, probably already assuming it'd be just like any other case, but he'd be wrong. So wron----

"Is J.J. still on the team?" 

"What?" 

"Jennifer Jareau. Is she still on the team with you?" I scoffed. 

"Yeah, she, um, she is. We're best friends now. Have been for years." 

"So, I--you never get togeth---"

"No. We don't." I shook my head, trying desperately to focus on the task at hand. "Can you just focus, please?" He crossed his arms and motioned for me to continue. "Thanks." 

"Anyway, for some stupid reason, you thought it'd be a good idea to separate--J.J. took the front, while you took the back. You get kidnapped and-- the 911 caller turns out to be the unsub who suffered from a split-personality disorder. His good side, the one that didn't beat you up and cause you immaculate pain---he was the one who helped." 

"How? How did he help you--us?" 

"He drugged me with dilaudid." 

"I don't believe you. I'd never---I'm in the fucking FBI! I would never become an addict!" My younger self jumped from his seat on the couch, looking more red in the face than I thought I was after being slapped by Cat Adams. 

"It's not like I had a choice! And you won't either! That is why I need you to listen to me! To make different choices, prevent what happened to me to happen to you." The fear in his eyes mirror the fear I remembered in mine the second before the needle pierced my skin for the first time that night. 

"Okay," he choked out, tears slowly staining his face. "Please, wha--what else happened to you?" 

"Well, aside from normal FBI-type ordeals which I know you can't change, um, when you're twenty-nine, you'll start to develop these....headaches." 

"Okay, I take it you go see a doctor?" 

"I went to several. They all said I was 'fine.' Then, one doctor mentioned sending the x-rays of my brain to a well-renowned geneticist." 

"Did they help cure them?" 

"Yes," I swallowed, feeling my eyes glaze over just seeing Maeve's image flash past my pupils. "Um, she actually ends up being someone I grew to care about...deeply." 

"You fell in love with her?" I nodded. He scoffed. "She already sounds pretty amazing." 

"She was." The moment I caught the wave of realization wash over him, hit me in the same way I once felt my body collapse at the sound of the gunshot that killed her back then. "She had a stalker, and I just---I made some real stupid decisions that did nothing but get her hurt." I shook my head, curious as to how much time I had left before I was sucked back to reality. "I've gotten shot more times than I can count, it feels like, and I know what it feels like to die and be resuscitated." He looked up at me and smirked a little. 

"Well, at least it sounds like that'd be the worst of it, right?" I laughed an airy, almost broken laugh, watching his face fall before me, silently asking me to further explain some more. 

"You'll more than likely still come across an assassin by the name of Cat Adams," I sighed, mulling over how I should explain my .... relationship with a serial killer. "She's a female serial killer who trusted me --- leading to her arrest and lifelong prison sentence." I gulped again, bring the last of the now chill liquid to my lips, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping that once this is all over and I'm back --- every memory I am now reliving will be .... different. "She decided to exact her revenge by corowsing a plan that ended with me serving three months in a federal prison .... then, when that wasn't enough, she also kidnapped Mom and almost convinced me that she had gotten pregnant with my sperm." 

"She wha--she WHAT NOW?" 

"Yeah, so, just, never go to Mexico." 

"Why were you even in Mexico?" 

"Mom was recently diagnosed with Alzheimer's. She refused to take any new medication. I panicked. Thought that giving her this newly patented drug would help her ... and it did, when I got her to take it." I watched the wheels turn in his head, almost as if I could hear it, too. I chuckled at that. Rossi was right. My brain working can, in fact be heard from across the table. 

"So, is that the worst of it?" I wanted to lie and say that it was, but I'm pretty sure he could read the expression of my face, telling him that it wasn't. "Okay, lay it on me." 

"'Lay it on you?'" I laughed. "You know you sound just like Morgan, right now." We both laughed, somehow both knowing that our giggle fit was mentally preparing us for what was to come next. "So, um, about J.J..." 

"What about her?" 

"We were, um, stuck in a hostage situation .. and while held at gunpoint, she, uhh, she confessed to 'always loving me.'" I could tell by the mournful expression on his face that I just killed his confidence in ever agreeing to taking Gideon's advice on asking her out with those tickets. I walked over and allowed my hand to briefly touch his shoulder. "In my time, she's married with two kids." I watched him release a breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

"So, where does that leave you?" I blinked my eyes a couple times. 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"You're what? Thirty-seven?" I nod. "So, don't we-you have someone by now?" I shook my head at him. "We don't?!" 

"I---Look, I don't remember it being a big deal me when I was you, okay!" 

"Right," he scoffed, moving past me into the kitchen. "You remember..? There was this girl who caught my eye at No Doze. She dropped a book before picking up her coffee, and I have it now, but I just haven't been able to bring myself to try and return it back to her." I did remember. It was One Thousand and One Nights. I thought right away, this girl could be something to me. But then, I got into work and was mesmerized by the way J.J.'s perfume flooded my senses. 

"Yeah, I remember her ..." 

"Y/N." 

We both simply looked at eachother. "Spencer, whatever you do, please don't make the same stupid decisions I've made. Go, ask Y/N out, and I think, together, we'll see how it turns out." 

"But, what should I---? 

I couldn't hear him anymore. The room began to fade away. Then, all of a sudden, my vision went white. 

-

"Spencer...Spencer...Hi." I hear my mother's voice calling me back to reality ... to the present. 

"Is he going to be okay?" Garcia? I wondered who else was there --- waiting for me to wake up. I vaguely heard my doctor telling her that I wasn't out of the woods, yet, that I still needed to have further tests run. "Excuse me." I heard her footsteps quietly leave the room as I allowed myself to rest in my mother's hands. Then, I hear a voice, for the life me, I couldn't recognize, at least, not right away. 

"Spence, oh my god!" A woman rushed passed Garcia and Mom, coming up to take my head in her hands, and they felt like -- home. "You're alive! Baby, you're here and you're alive!" Just before it felt like she was about to kiss me, I saw a flash of hurt cross her eyes. "Yo--you don't recognize me, do you?" Sadly, I slowly shook my head, moving my hands to carefully place them over hers. When I felt her pull away, I squeezed my fingers over hers, locking her hands in place on my face. 

"You ... feel strangely like home to me." It was the truth. I tried to mull over in my brain who this woman could be... it felt like it was on the tip of my tongue ... 

"Hey, Y/N, there you are." 

Wait ... Y/N. 

Then, all at once, it hit me: I'm seeing new images and scenes flash thru my mind like a movie of my life. 

I tell J.J. after our not-exactly-a-date date that I felt it was better if we simply become close friends, instead. 

After gathering up the courage necessary, and taking Elle's simple advice about why I couldn't get a date, I asked out Y/N, the girl from the coffee shop. 

I see myself graduating with three additional degrees. 

I stuck by J.J. after Tobias Hankel shut the door in our faces. 

I proposed to Y/N at Rossi's, then watched as we got married, welcoming two beautiful daughters years later. 

I faced Cat Adams, but this time, I went to Emily for help, and together, my team and friends helped me get my mother the medication she needed. 

I never experienced any of my previous headaches. I was surrounded by the deep love of Y/N to keep them from ever surfacing. 

-

"Y/N ..." Her eyes lit up at the sound of her name off my lips. "Baby, I remember." The way she hugged me was a feeling I wanted to bottle up forever. Feeling her lips on mine was something I could treasure until the end of time. "Let's go home." 

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End file.
